


The Artful Black Widow

by Phoebe_Snow



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Art History Teacher Steve, Attraction, Eventual Romance, F/M, Five questions, Imagine your OTP, Inspired by Music, Kissing, Power Play, Seduction, Teasing, Thief Natasha, Title inspired by Oliver Twist, Willie's Diner, pickpocket, romanogers fluffathon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-08-31 16:08:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8585062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoebe_Snow/pseuds/Phoebe_Snow
Summary: Steve Rogers doesn't play around when it comes to pickpockets, although the lovely redhead who attempted to steal his wallet intrigues him.





	1. Wake Up, Kids; We Got The Dreamer's Disease

**Author's Note:**

> If this story seems familiar to you, that's because I published it months ago in my _Real Love is Hard to Find_ Romanogers one shot collection. I decided a long time ago, that I was going to add a sequel to it and now felt like the right time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story literally morphed into something I didn't expect, but I really enjoyed expanding it. Some one shots just can't be left alone, you know?

* * *

 

 

  
_But when the night is falling; you cannot find the light, light_  
_You feel your dreams are dying; hold tight_  
_You've got the music in you (Don't let go)_  
_You've got the music in you (One dance left)_  
_This world is gonna pull through (Don't give up)_  
_You've got a reason to live (Can't forget)_  
_We only get what we give -_ New Radicals 'You Get What You Give' 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He could sense the person before he felt them. Whoever he was, the guy was pretty gifted. Bold too. Trying to lift a man's wallet in broad daylight on a busy street where people could see. _Well, this time, the punk picked the wrong person to mess with,_ Steve thought to himself with a scowl.

 

Luckily, there was an alley just on his right and if he timed it properly, Steve could grab the thief, drag him into the alley with him and put a little fear in him. Maybe the creep would think twice about pickpocketing someone again.

 

In a split second, Steve grabbed and twisted the wrist of the man behind him and, using the element of surprise on the punk, he pulled him into the alley, slamming him against the brick wall.

 

A low moan came from the would-be thief's lips and Steve smirked, pushing back the hood of the schmuck's jacket to get a look at him. However, the corner of his lips fell when he realised that the thief was not a man, but in fact, a young woman. She had piercing green eyes and hair as red as blood framed her face. There was a little patch of dirt on her cheek and her eyes were full of anger and suspicion. Through the anger, Steve could see that she was tired.

 

After giving her a quick once-over, Steve saw that she was wearing a pair of chucks, black skinny jeans and an unzipped hoodie with a yellow t shirt underneath it. The clothes were a bit rumpled, but they didn't seem dirty and she certainly didn't smell like a homeless person.

 

"Let me go," she hissed, trying to free her twisted wrist away from him.

 

Steve lessened his grip on her wrist, but he didn't let go of her. Instead, he glared, the former feeling of shock fading away and being replaced by indignation. "Why did you try to steal from me?"

 

The girl had enough gall to scoff as if he had asked her a ridiculous question. "Why else do people steal from the privileged?"

 

"I'm hardly privileged, miss."

 

The redhead's brows furrowed and she raised an eyebrow at him. " _'Miss'_? Boy, are you cordial. I guess mommy and daddy had the time to teach you manners. Although, you suck at treating women respectfully." Angry about the pain he'd caused her, she bent her leg and tried to knee him in the crotch, but he sensed it coming and blocked it with his free hand.

 

She really had some nerve. "You were trying to steal from from me! I was just minding my own business when you decided it would be cute to rob me of my wallet." He cocked his head to the side. "Don't you think a job would be much better than going around robbing random strangers?"

 

"...No," came the deadpan reply.

 

"So theft is better? Listen, even if you get a job bagging groceries or being a waitress, it'd still be a whole lot better than stealing. And your dignity would remain intact." Suddenly, another thought hit him. "...If you're stealing for drugs, it's only going to be a temporary fix. They keep you dependant and do more harm than good." 

 

The girl stared at him for a few seconds, eyes wide as two gold pieces. What a sanctimonious asshole! "No way. Are you seriously trying to _convert_ me? Turn me into a good, hardworking citizen like you? Man, you must get off on condescension." She threw her head back and laughed at the absurdity of this situation.

 

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Steve ignored the warmth that rushed through him at the sound of her rich timbre-filled laugh and scowled. "I beg your pardon?"

 

"Oh, _please_. Don't play coy with me. You know exactly what I'm talking about. It's people like **you** who cause problems in the world, moneybags." She paused momentarily to look him over with a disgusted expression.

 

"Why is it that, because I tried to steal from you, I must be out of work or desperate for money, a prostitute or, God forbid, trying to score some drugs? For your information, Dr. Phil, I **do** have a job, and I also happen to like it. Stealing is just for fun." She giggled unashamedly, her plump lips turned up in a saucy grin.

 

A lot of emotions had been boiling around in the pit of Steve's stomach: anger, frustration, embarrassment, annoyance, but hearing this girl laugh at him was a big blow to his ego. She must have thought that he was one of those rich snobs who only looked down on the middle class. Well, she suffered from a serious delusion if she thought that was what he was about. His eyes flashed to her full, parted lips before he spoke.

 

"Look, red, you don't know the first thing about me. If you think that I'm rich, you're very mistaken. I'm not wallowing in millions. I'm an art history teacher in a high school in Brooklyn and I'm sure you, like most people, know that teaching is a labor of love, not salary."

 

Honestly, it was ridiculous for him to try and explain himself to her. He didn't even know her and she tried to steal from him, too!

 

His words did nothing to dissuade her from continuing with her insults. "Oh, you're a teacher. How classically bleeding heart. Lemme guess. You teach in one of those rough inner city schools and you're hoping to pull a stand and deliver on the students and make them care about education?" She began to cackle.

 

"Now, that's noble, but I wonder if you actually feel that way because you just want to get a good name for yourself, so you can transfer out of the hellhole to some fancy school in the nice part of the city. Am I close?" Her eyebrows raised in a saucy way that made Steve even angrier.

 

It was a cruel joke that such a bad tempered woman was so good-looking. She didn't seem like she was scared of anything. Hell, even when he had her wrist against the wall, she seemed unbothered by it. Like she was in control of the entire situation.

 

After those nasty comments she made about his career, Steve itched to teach this little minx a lesson. A bubbling desire to kiss her rose up inside of him and he was taken aback by the emotion, but was careful not to show it. The tension between the two of them was palpable and from the dilated pupils of his would-be thief, she was aroused, too.

 

Frustrated by the rush of passion that ran through his being, he grabbed her other hand and tugged her with him as he moved forward to the street. "We'll see what the police have to say about it. I wouldn't be surprised at all to find out that they know your face well. They may even thank me for turning you in. I'd be doing a public service."

 

At this, the redhead froze in place and pulled back from Steve, but his grip was like iron. She was going nowhere. "No, don't take me to the precinct. Please."

 

For once, she sounded genuinely afraid. Even her emerald eyes were full of alarm and Steve felt himself wondering why, but he didn't want her to think that he cared because he didn't...yet, he was curious.

 

Still wanting payback for those harsh words about him, he said, "Why? Does your father work there or something? You don't want him to know what his innocent little girl is up to on Saturday mornings?"

 

The frightened, vulnerable look on her face vanished in an instant. She sent him a sharp, disdainful glare and tugged her hand away, crossing her arms. Clearly, he had touched a nerve. Good.

 

"I don't have a father...but there are people downtown who would love to get their hands on me." She pulled her hoodie back over her head and zipped it up. "As much as I love flirting with danger, I don't need the cops on my tail."

 

Steve couldn't stop the sarcasm in his voice as he replied, "Why? Did you steal from them too?"

 

She rolled her eyes and rubbed her wrist. "You're a gifted comedian. How about a truce? You promise not to turn me in to the police and I don't tell them that you attacked me."

 

His jaw clacked. "Wait a minute, I didn't-"

 

As Steve began to try and defend himself, the redhead casually held up her wrist to his face. "You sprained it, so I think that would be enough reason to get them to question you at the very least. So, as I said before, a truce would be in order between us, don't you think?"

 

She did have a valid a point, which he begrudgingly acknowledged. This woman was a force to be reckoned with. She must keep herself prepared for anything, even for a guy like him, who had previously been so convinced that he had her right under his thumb.

 

The redhead held out her hand to him and Steve reluctantly shook it, a scowl present on his face. There weren't many people who got the best of him like this. He tended to be the kind of person who was prepared for troublemakers, but this girl was different. She had angles upon angles. Steve found himself wanting to know who she was and how she got that way.

 

_You win this round, you minx, but we'll see who comes out on top the next time around._

Her eyes looked over him once more with an intensity that nearly stole his breath. Then, she stepped back towards the street. "Well, this has been a lot of fun, old man, but I really have to be moving al-" Before she could finished her sentence, her stomach gurgled. Loudly.

 

Steve chuckled, finally feeling a little more in control. "So you're hungry. Is that why you tried stealing my wallet?"

 

"Maybe," she said, arms akimbo.

 

It was no use. He wouldn't get anything out of her like this. She was still on the defensive and a little suspicious too, from what he could see. For some bizarre reason, Steve decided to play the Good Samaritan for a change.

 

"Come on. It's obvious that you're hungry. I don't know when you last ate, but it's clear that you haven't eaten in a while."

 

"So?" Her voice was hard, like steel. Damn, she was a tough nut to break. Steve wouldn't mind trying to crack her, though. He _was_ a patient man.

 

"So, I propose as part of our truce, that you let me treat you to lunch." He shot her a handsome smile.

 

The incredulous look on her face was worth him saying those words. She blinked several times and her mouth opened and closed more than once. Speechless. Guess that could be chalked up to a win.

 

Silence was all that surrounded them until she finally spoke up, flabbergasted. "You want to buy me lunch?? After I tried to steal from you?!"

 

"Yes."

 

She peered at him and shook her head. "...I think _you're_ the one on drugs."

 

"Does that mean you're accepting?" She wasn't going to get out of it so easily. Steve was intrigued by this red haired vixen and he was determined to find out more about her.

 

"I-" her stomach gurgled again, louder and noisier than the last time. She covered her belly with her hands and frowned. He was right. She hadn't eaten in a while and her body was betraying her to that. Even she wasn't going to turn down free food. "Oh, fine. You can buy me lunch."

 

Good. Now for the surprise. "Alright. I will treat you to lunch on one condition."

 

Those brilliant green eyes glinted and she backed away from him a few feet. The glare in her eyes was reminiscent of a threatened cat.

 

"I'm not going to sleep with you, so if that's what you're thinking, you can go straight to hell."

 

From the guarded and hissing tone of her voice, Steve guessed that she had experienced that with other people. A pang struck him in the gut and he felt such compassion for this beautiful young waif.

 

He held his hands up to signify his honesty and harmlessness. "I didn't mean that. I would never hurt a woman. My mother raised me to treat women with respect and I always do. Please believe me when I say that there are no sexual motives for my actions."

 

The redhead grew less tense once she realised that he was being honest with her. She regained her more casual posture and rubbed her wrist again. In a near whisper, she asked, "So what are your conditions?"

 

His response was automatic. "That you answer five questions about yourself."

 

Her head jerked up and she stared at him like he'd spontaneously grown two heads. No one in her life had ever cared to know that much about her, especially not a stranger. She wasn't sure how to take it.

 

A slinky smile spread across her face. She purred, "So you want to play a game?" 

 

First, she was an overly cautious vixen, then a seductive one the next. Steve wasn't sure what he was getting himself into. "No, I just want to know five things about you, that's all. For instance...what's your name?"

 

Her eyes narrowed. "Why do you need to know that?"

 

Was she paranoid about him knowing her name? This woman was getting to be more of a challenge the longer he talked to her. Too bad he found that interesting. "Because I can't go around calling you 'minx' or 'vixen', now can I?"

 

Instead of getting defensive again, she pursed her lips and thought for a moment. He did have a point. There was no point in keeping him from knowing her name. It's not like she'd be telling him her full name and address...

 

"Natasha."

 

Steve's lips curled up and he nodded. It was a beautiful name for a beautiful girl. "Well, Natasha. I'm Steve Rogers. It's nice to meet you...finally."

 

"Mm. Quid pro quo. If you know five things about me, then I want to know five things about you. It's only fair."

 

Okay. He hadn't been expecting that at all, but it seemed reasonable enough. "Why not? I'll tell you whatever you want to know about me."

 

"In return, I'll answer any question you ask about me...any question within _reason_ , that is. Then we'll both go our separate ways and never see each other again."

 

"Alright...and if you don't get around to asking me five things?" 

 

Natasha turned and walked to the street. Steve followed her silently, waiting for her to reply. After a few moments of watching the cars go by, she gave him a sly glance. There was a saucy tilt to her voice as she purred, "Oh, don't worry, Rogers. I _always_ come to collect~"

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out the song, _You Get What You Give_. It relates to my version of Natasha in this story. I even named my chapter title after lines from the song. It's so freaking good and the words match up perfectly with the theme of this fic. Give it a listen~❤️


	2. You Feel Your Tree is Breaking (Just Bend)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was supposed to just be a two shot, but when I got to the halfway point of writing this chapter, I realised that I couldn't leave it just like that. The reason why will become apparent once you finish reading. Enjoy~❤️

* * *

 

 

 

"I hope you don't expect me to put out for this, Rogers."

 

"Look, for the hundredth time, would you just call me Steve? All my friends do."

 

Natasha's eyes glinted playfully. "But we aren't friends."

 

"Not yet."

 

"You're awfully sure of yourself, aren't you?"

 

"I prefer _'hopeful'_."

 

The redhead scoffed and opened the menu that lay on the table in front of her. "So, do you treat every woman you meet to Willie's Diner, or do you just have a thing for redheads?"

 

"Depends. Is that one of the five questions you wanted to ask me?"

 

"Hmm, sure. Why not?"

 

Steve looked over his menu for a brief moment before placing it down and giving Natasha a smirk. "I don't take every woman I meet here. The only other woman I brought here besides you is...Sharon."

 

The way he said 'Sharon' made Natasha sense that he'd been in a relationship that had ended badly. She was curious, so she chose that moment to ask him another question. "Who's Sharon?"

 

"Sharon is my-well, _was_ my girlfriend a couple of months ago. We broke up."

 

The waitress came over and asked them what they wanted to order and they told her what they decided on. After she took their menus and walked away, Natasha cocked her head to the side. "Something tells me that you aren't the cheating kind. Did she?"

 

"What? You mean did she cheat?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"I wouldn't put it that way..."

 

"What's that supposed to mean? Either she cheated or she didn't."

 

"It's not that simple."

 

"Explain it to me, then."

 

"Look, this is kind of personal."

 

"Hey, you told me that I could ask you five questions. I'm just doing what I've been given permission to do. It's time for you to fulfill your end of the bargain, now."

 

Steve sighed and ran a hand through his hair. In hindsight, telling her wouldn't do anything. "Alright...she fell in love with someone else."

 

"Damn. A friend of yours?"

 

"Ha. Not hardly. His name is Brock Rumlow."

 

"Brock Rumlow? Eugh, sounds like a prick. Maybe you're better off being single if she dumped you for someone with that name."

 

"Thanks."

 

"You're welcome. So did you find out why she cheated on you?"

 

"Yeah. See, Sharon, Brock and I work at the same school. I'm the art history teacher, Sharon's the school nurse and Brock is the football coach."

 

"I had a feeling you were going to say football coach. I don't know why, but it seems like every time there's jerk in school among the faculty, it's always the football coach. Figures. Sports tend to bring out the inner asshole in some people...but I'm babbling. Please, go ahead."

 

 _You can babble as much as you want,_ Steve thought.

 

Maybe it was foolish, but he found that he was really beginning to like this woman. "My mom got really sick and was bedridden a couple months ago. This happened during the summer, and since I'm the only family she had, I was at her house, taking care of her until she got better."

 

Natasha held up her hand to stop him. "Wait. You don't have to say any more. I can fill in the blanks. You were absent because you were doing your duty and watching your mom, then your sweet, loving girlfriend gets impatient due to her supreme selfishness, which she cleverly disguised as loneliness and decides to go on a date with the buff basketball coach from school who's been eyeing her ever since he started working there. The next thing you know, they're together and you've been shafted. Close?"

 

Steve chuckled awkwardly and rubbed the back of his head. "More or less."

 

She snapped her fingers and grinned triumphantly. "I love being right."

 

"So I see. You don't read palms or are some kind of psychic, are you?"

 

"Nope. I just have a knack for guessing people's situations."

 

The waitress then came back with their orders and drinks, placing them on table.

 

Natasha grabbed her fork and looked down hungrily at her food. "That didn't take a long time."

 

Steve chuckled and picked up his fork as well. "You've never been to Willie's before, have you?"

 

"No, but don't expect me to come here just because you frequent the place. I don't get hung up over men."

 

"Oh, Nat. I don't believe you get hung up over anyone."

 

"...what did you call me?"

 

"Nat. I'm sorry if that was too familiar..."

 

"No. It's fine. I like it. No one has ever called me Nat before."

 

He merely smiled, grateful to have made some headway with her.

 

 

* * *

 

 

After a short silence due to their eating, Steve paused and asked her, "How old are you?"

 

"Twenty-three." The answer came back quickly.

 

"Wow. I never would have guessed that. You look like eighteen at the very least."

 

"Ah, well. I don't put much premium on being young."

 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

 

"Just that, for someone like me, looking young and being young is only a curse."

 

Steve opened his mouth to ask why she said that, but Natasha knew what he was going to say and she spoke first before he could get the words out. "Well, now that you know how old I am, I might as well ask you the same thing. I'm guessing you're probably mid to late twenties, am I right?"

 

"You are. I'm twenty-seven."

 

She fluttered her eyelashes and said in a girly voice, "Mm, a handsome, twenty-seven year old art history teacher. Where have you been all my life?"

 

He just rolled his eyes and answered with, "In Brooklyn. If you grew up around here, we might have met."

 

"Yes," she said quietly. "I'd have remembered someone like you."

 

"...is that a compliment or-?"

 

"That's for me to know and you to possibly never find out. Alright, teach. Next question. Earlier you said that you've lived in Brooklyn all of your life, but what I want to know is have you seen the movie Brooklyn?"

 

Steve gave her a puzzled smile. "Is this a serious question?"

 

"Yes, it is."

 

"Yes. I have seen Brooklyn. I liked it a lot. Before the movie came out, it was a book, you know. I read it and realized that I had a lot of things in common with Eilis." The way Steve said the woman's name made Natasha look up at him quizzically. There had been the tiniest hint of a lilt in his voice.

 

"You're Irish," she said in surprise.

 

"Mm-hm. My grandparents on my mom's side were Irish immigrants. They had her a few year after coming to the US in the late fifties. My dad's parents were immigrants too, except they didn't have the money to all come over, so they just sent him. Back then, it was like a dream to live in America, and in Brooklyn, the neighborhoods were full of people from many different walks of life. Still are."

 

"Sounds like you really love it here."

 

"Well, I do. Brooklyn will always be my home, no matter how old I get."

 

"It's nice to have roots..."

 

"Are you homeless?" The words came out before Steve could stop them.

 

Natasha's eyes squinted a bit and she sent him a hard stare. "Why do you ask?"

 

"It's just that...well, you sounded so sad just then. Like a person who doesn't have a concept of a home."

 

It took her a few moments to reply. "I'm not homeless. The place I stay at is more like a temporary residence. I wouldn't dare call it a home, though."

 

The sober expression on Natasha's face cast a shadow on her friendly banter with Steve and they both ate in silence.

 

 

* * *

 

  

Time had begun to pass by and they finished eating their food. The waitress had taken their plates away and brought back a mug of hot coffee for Steve and a cup of hot chocolate for Natasha. They were almost finished and Steve started to feel anxious.

 

He found himself wishing that he'd made a request to ask Natasha ten questions instead of five measly ones. He wanted to get to know her better and something told him that, after this, she would hold to her word and not try to make contact with him again.

 

The silence between them was a little uncomfortable, but not unwelcome. Steve allowed himself to take notice of the red in Natasha's hair. It was so fiery and vibrant, unlike any other redhead he'd ever seen before. Her eyes were a brilliant emerald green and her lips... She had the kind of plump lips that a man would love to kiss, and Steve realized that he was such a man.

 

Yet, he didn't make a move.

 

After finishing off her hot chocolate, Natasha set the mug back down on the table and licked her lips. "Well, it's been fun, old man, but I really have to be going. Thanks for the food." She stood up and stretched.

 

Steve got to his feet as well and pulled out his wallet. He placed a few bills on the table, then he handed her a handful of twenties.

 

Natasha stared down at her hand as if he'd given her a pearl necklace. Her eyes met his and she furrowed her brow, unsure why he gave her the money. "I'm not a charity case. I told you when we first met that I have a job."

 

"I know," he replied softly. "This isn't me trying to treat you like a charity case. I just...wanted to be nice."

 

"It's...nice to be nice," she said in a low voice.

 

"That's my motto. Well, one of them, anyway."

 

A new light shone in Natasha's eyes and she closed her fist over the money he gave her. She shoved it in the front pocket of her jeans and smiled up at him. This smile was very different from her sassy and sarcastic ones from before. It was genuine and beautiful.

 

"I can see that. Steve...I'm sorry about what I said earlier. You know, when I made that awful crack on you and the school where you teach. That wasn't fair of me to say and it was uncalled for." The remorse in her voice was evident.

 

Taking a chance, he reached out and moved a strand of hair behind her ear. "I forgive you, but I have an idea on how you can make it up to me."

 

There was a suspicious look in her eyes and she cocked her head to the side. "Oh, yeah? Like what, for instance?"

 

Instead of telling her, Steve showed her. He pulled her to him and pressed his lips against hers gently, moving his hand behind her neck to caress the soft flesh. Just as he thought, she was responsive to his touch.

 

Her lips trembled in what could only be a reaction of pleasure and her hands gripped his jacket, a quiet moan slipping from her lips as they kissed. It felt like they'd been standing there forever and even though she wanted to stay in his arms and keep their lips connected, Natasha's lungs began to scream for air. So, she reluctantly pulled away from him and took in deep breaths.

 

"Will I ever see you again?" He asked her, his eyes speaking so much more to her than she could process.

 

Natasha's mouth closed as she thought on what she should say. It wouldn't be fair for her to give him any solid answer because she wasn't sure if she could. That kiss had blown her away and it took all the strength in her body to hold herself back from throwing caution to the wind and passionately meeting his mouth with her own again.

 

She just smiled at him and grazed her fingers against his lips lightly. Then she leaned forward, placing her hand on his cheek and whispered, "I hope so."

 

Then, like a wisp of wind, she was gone.

 

 


	3. What's Real Can't Die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I have finished another WIP! Hooray! I hope you all enjoy this final chapter. It's really close to my heart. :D

* * *

 

  
**Three months later**

 

Steve had never been able to forget Natasha, even after all this time. Even though he didn't really know her, he missed her. He recalled their mutual agreement to ask five questions about each other. They had both gotten every question answered, save for one. Now, it had been three months since that first meeting. Maybe he really wasn't going to see her again.

 

This bothered Steve more than he could say. Never had a woman fascinated him before and he was sure that, after meeting her, he wouldn't find anyone half as appealing. She was an enigma wrapped up in a puzzle with angles that tantalised him to the fiber of his being.

 

How was it possible to be completely smitten by someone who originally planned to pickpocket from you, when they ended up stealing a kiss from you instead and then, disappeared from your life just as quickly as they entered it?

 

Natasha Romanoff. It was a beautiful name. Russian, from the sound of it. Steve wished that he knew where she was and if she was doing alright. He hated the thought of anyone being in trouble, especially a woman. Of course, he had no doubt in her mind that she could take care of herself. That much had been obvious from their encounter in the alley.

 

However, Steve always felt a sense of compassion for women who were in bad situations. That was likely due to his own mother, who had gone through a lot of abuse from his father. Because he'd seen firsthand how women can be mistreated and hurt by men and society as a whole, he felt an innate desire to protect them. Chivalry, no matter what anyone tried to say about it, was most definitely not dead.

 

He hoped that Natasha hadn't been living with anyone who treated her that way. There was a painful clench in his stomach at the thought of her being an abuse victim. Steve sighed and tried to push the thoughts of the ethereal redhead from his mind. It would only drive him crazy if he kept dwelling on her memory.

 

The doorbell rang, which was just the thing to shake him out of his musings. It must have been the pizza he ordered. Steve opened the door and dug into his wallet, pulling out a handful of bills. "How much do I owe you?"

 

"Don't worry about it, teach. This one's on me."

 

Steve stilled. That voice...it was familiar. He looked up and, with a jolt, there was Natasha, wearing a blue and white polo shirt and black slacks with a huge smile on her face as if she held the secrets of the universe. "Natasha...?" He gasped out in disbelief.

 

"Face it, tiger. You've just hit the jackpot," came her sassy reply as she stepped through the door, shut it and locked it since Steve kept staring at her with widened eyes. She waved her hand in front of him, then set the pizza box down on the nearby countertop. "Okay. I guess you're still in shock?"

 

"Wh-what are you doing here?" He finally breathed out.

 

"What do you think I'm doing here, Rogers? I said I was going to get my last question answered? And you have to ask me one more question, too...or have you already forgotten. Three months and you can't even remember that day we spent together at Willie's Diner? Tsk, maybe you're getting old-"

 

Natasha's words were cut off by Steve's lips covering hers. She moaned in surprise at this reaction because it was a little unexpected, but most definitely welcome. Sighing into the kiss, she clung to his arms and gave back just as good as she got. After a bit, they had to pull back to catch their breaths, but she kept her hands on his biceps.

 

"Wow...what a kiss. I guess you didn't forget," she whispered, looking up into his eyes.

 

Steve brushed his knuckles against her cheek. "How could I? You shook my world up and left in the same day. It's not easy to forget someone like that."

 

She looked away from him. "Your pizza's going to get cold."

 

"No, don't-don't do that."

 

"Don't do what?"

 

"Don't be _evasive_ , Natasha."

 

"What makes you think I'm being evasive?"

 

"I deal with teenagers every day. I know when someone is being evasive." He gave her a pointed look which was probably the stern glare he gave his unruly students when they were trying to give him lip.

 

There was something righteous about the expression on his face that made her feel bad about attempting to ignore the seriousness of his words. He missed her. That much was evident, and she missed him, too.

 

"Okay. I'm sorry. It's a...bad habit."

 

"You don't have to tell me. I already figured that out about you when we first met."

 

She looked up at him, lips parted. There was so much desire in those husky words that made her wonder...maybe she affected him just as much as he affected her. That welcoming kiss had been a big tell, for sure.

 

"Harsh, but fair. Seriously, though, your pizza really will get cold if you don't eat it and don't tell me that you're not hungry because I know you probably haven't eaten since four o'clock."

 

"How did you know that?"

 

"You're a teacher, Steve. It's kind of obvious. Please. Go ahead and eat. It'll give me time to explain...where I've been."

 

"You don't owe me anything, Natasha."

 

She smiled and kissed his cheek affectionately. "I know, but I want to tell you. You're the first person who's ever really...struck a chord with me and made me want to go back to living my regular life."

 

Steve pulled out a couple of plates and handed her one. She took it. "Your regular life? As what, a spy?"

 

"Ha, you're hilarious. No. I was a courier."

 

He placed three pieces of pizza on his plate and moved to the side so she could get her own slices. "Here? In New York?"

 

"Yeah. I'm pretty good at it, too. I never had a complaint and I always got my deliveries on time. Unfortunately, I was a little too early for my own good one day."

 

"What happened?" He pulled out a small bottle of water and held it out to her. Natasha took it and moved to sit on one of the stools at the counter.

 

"I witnessed a murder."

 

"A murder? You're joking."

 

"I wish I were, but it's the truth. See, there's this guy I usually courier back and forth for. His name is Wade. Wade Wilson. Nice guy. He owned all of the Wilson Inns and Suites here in New York and a lot of other places in the north."

 

"Yeah. I know of him. He's one of the richest men in the world."

 

"Was. He's dead now."

 

"Really?"

 

"Yeah. You didn't know about it? This was pretty big. It was on all the newspapers and new channels."

 

"Oh. Well, I try to stay away from mainstream new outlets. Nearly everything they report is just depressing and I'm already a high school teacher. That's enough drama for me."

 

Natasha laughed and bit into her pizza. "Can't say I blame you. I'm the same way myself."

 

"So what happened to this Wade guy? You saw him killed?"

 

"I did. It was in the alley at the back entrance of the hotel. It was kind of dark, but I had turned on the lights on my bike so I could see. That's when I saw him killed. Shot in the head by a thug hired by the Kingpin."

 

"How did you know he was working for the Kingpin?"

 

"Because he threatened Wade and told him that the Kingpin was pissed that he lost some kind of package of his. Wade tried to talk to the guy, but he just said, "The Kingpin doesn't tolerate mistakes." The next thing I know, Wade's lying in a pool of his own blood on the ground and I'm pedalling my bike as fast as I can to get away from there."

 

"So you saw him die?"

 

"Yes, but I was lucky. Wade was being watched around the same time by the FBI and they saw me fleeing the crime scene. Since I knew the face of the man who killed Wade, I was the one person who could help them put the Kingpin away. So they put me in the witness protection program. That's where I've been the past few months. I had to testify what I'd seen in court and they needed me alive to do it. The trial was finished a week ago."

 

Steve slowly began to nod. "Come to think of it, I did hear some of the other teachers talking about the trial at school, but I wasn't really paying attention." Realisation dawned on him. " _That's_ why you didn't want me to take you to the police."

 

"Yeah. Some of the cops were on the Kingpin's payroll. All I had to do was just show up there and I'd have been dead in less than ten minutes."

 

A surge of relief ran through Steve's being. He never would have been able to forgive himself if he caused her to death. "I understand, but the day we met, why did you sneak away from where the FBI placed you?"

 

"You know, when you're in the witness protection program, no one can know where you are or why you left. Everything is kept away from the general public. But I was bored and missed my best friend, Clint. So I decided to come back to New York and see him, but he was being watched by Kingpin's people. I guess they figured that I'd have a moment of weakness and come pay him a visit. When I saw that they were watching him, though, I left."

 

Steve had been watching Natasha, hanging on to her every word as she spoke. Honestly, what she was telling him sounded like it was from a thriller, but the tense look in her eyes told him that it was, in fact, very real.

 

"Then you tried to pickpocket me," he prompted, which gained him a small, embarrassed smile from her.

 

"Yeah. I'm sorry about that, but I ran out of money and had to get some in a hurry. You were the closest person near me, so I chose you."

 

"Well, you don't have to apologize."

 

"Why not?"

 

"Because meeting you was one of the best things that ever happened to me."

 

"...you're quite the sweet-talker, aren't you, Rogers?" Her cheeks tinted pink.

 

"Actually, I'm always awkward around women, except for you. I think that means something." He gave her a leveled look that carried a bit of heat with it.

 

Natasha looked at her hands, suddenly feeling a bit shy. "I guess I really made an impression on you."

 

"You have no idea..." He put his pizza down and went over to the sink to wash his hands.

 

"Anyway, I...I just came to tell you what was going on and let you know where I've been the last few months." She got up and sat on the couch.

 

Steve dried his hands and went back to the couch, sitting down next to Natasha. "So you're not in danger anymore?"

 

"No. That short chapter of adventure is finally over. I'm back to my normal life now."

 

"I'm glad to hear it, but you could have just called and told me. There was no need to show up like this. Why did you?"

 

Natasha slyly raised an eyebrow. "Is that your fifth question, Steve?"

 

The corners of his lips went up and he nodded. "It is."

 

"Because we connected that day and I haven't been able to stop thinking about you ever since. I know we're practically strangers and this isn't normally done, but...I want to explore this thing between us."

 

He brushed a strand of her behind her ear. "You mean the sexual tension?"

 

Natasha's eyes landed on his lips before moving back up to his eyes. Tentatively, she reached forward and placed her hand on his knee. "Mmhm." She leaned forward and brushed her lips to his. The kiss felt like a breeze against Steve's skin and he clutched her shoulders, pulling her closer to him.

 

A little moan left Natasha's mouth and she moved her hands around his neck, enjoying the sultry sensation of his lips on hers. They stayed together like this, passionately making out on Steve's couch without a care in the world for who knew how long.

 

When they stopped to take a breath, he asked, "Will you stay the night?"

 

Natasha's eyes widened in surprise. Now it was time for her to ask him her fifth question. "Do you want me?"

 

"Yes," came his husky whisper.

 

"Then I'll stay." She gave him another kiss and took one of his hands, placing it on her breast.

 

Steve froze and gave her an inquisitive look. "Nat..."

 

"No, please. I want you to touch me. We can figure everything out in the morning, but for now, I just need to _feel_."

 

His pupils dilated and he allowed his fingers to knead her breast under his palm. "If you're sure."

 

Natasha moaned and arched her back as he massaged her flesh. "Ah, yes. I've wanted this for so long. Steve...take me to bed." She locked on to his eyes with her own and bit her lip.

 

"Yes, ma'am," he replied and he scooped her up in his arms, carrying her to his bedroom. When he laid her on the comforter, she entwined their fingers and kissed his knuckles.

 

He gazed down at her. The light from the moon shone through the window, casting a glow on Natasha's face. She looked like an angel. "I can't believe this is real," he breathed.

 

"Oh?" Natasha switched their positions so she straddled his hips. Without hesitation, she tugged off her shirt and ran her fingers through his blond locks. She pressed her body to his and kissed him once more, inciting a groan from him. "Then I guess I'll have to show you," came her seductive reply. And so she did.

 

All night long.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading and commenting on this fic! It was truly a joy for me to write and I'm happy that I chose to expand it.❤️❤️❤️


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